HELP A NEIGHBOUR

HELP A NEIGHBOUR

Where has time gone?

It seems like only yesterday we laughed
We played, we made such fun;
We had no cares, no woes, only sun
And Sunny days to bask in the glory
That we created for ourselves—
And romped like jolly little elves.

Help your Neighbour

If you know someone who is now taking care of a Loved One, talk to her, or him, ask if they have help or if they know where to find it. For you know, if they don’t, that they are going to need it.

Refer them to YOUR local Alzheimer’s Society; steer them to a Support Group; lead them to internet help sites, such as:

The Alzheimer’s Society of British Columbia, or, of course, to sites in your area, such as our Family Caregivers of British Columbia.

It is SO hard to get plugged in at first. Everything is so new and somehow threatening; your time is suddenly not yours and you may not know how to cope with the inevitable sting of resentment and guilt, unintended consequences for the suddenly new care giver.

And fatigue. This is a biggy, because you find yourself tied down, inevitably 24-7.

You WILL reach a breaking point. And you will feel like this:

Today we’re melancholy
And don’t know what to do
Our sun has dimmed, the moon has lost its glow,
We’re so busy now
We’re taking care of others not ourselves
And now there’s so much more we need to know

Unless, of course, you have the good sense – and the courage – to seek help; it does take some people a lot of effort to admit they need help and to screw up the courage to fight the sense of embarrassment, and perhaps shame – to call for help.

There IS NO SHAME involved. It is not your fault. It is not her fault, or his. It is a disease, and it affects millions of people, both those with the disease and the many family members, relatives and friends involved.

This we know.

Pass it on.

For suddenly you, as a newby care giver, will wake up to the fact that your life has been taken over, every bit as much as has the life of your Loved One. And you will ask yourself:

Where has the time gone to?

It seems like only yesterday we laughed
We played, we made such fun;
We had no cares, no woes, only sun
And Sunny days to bask in the glory
That we created for ourselves—
And romped like jolly little elves.

Remember, knowledge is one key to ability. The more you know about the disease, and the more you share with others, be it with a Support Group, a doctor, nurse, or if you are just reading up on the disease, the better able you will be to cope.

It really does relieve a lot of the stress.

You may think you know a lot after a while, but pretty much always there is more to learn, better ways to deal with it all, better ways to help your Loved One.

But don’t ever get discouraged.

As you learn, you will grow as a person.

You will be stronger.

There are many stages now we must to go through
And each one has a challenge with a challenge new.
But you learn to cope, you carry hope,
And after a while you dope it all out
But where has the time all gone?
What happened while I wasn’t looking there
But here, where I was needed?
Who stole that time?
Where can I get it back?
How do I turn the clock back to then
When we would laugh?
Back to the times we made such fun
When time was ours.
Oh where has the time all gone?

But wait. There is more to come.
There are ways to conquer cope
And rise to mastering adverse anti-hope:
Take charge, control the time you have,
Be sure to claim the void and loud proclaim
“This time is mine!!”
And thereby beat that evil thief of time.

–If you are further along in the process and can relate to this, please give me a buzz at

hwbryce@gmail.com

Meanwhile, here are a few links.

In B.C., try these resources:
www.alzheimerbc.org/ -the Alzheimer’s Society of British Columbia
www.alzheimer.ca/    -for resources about Dementia, which includes Alzheimer’s
http://www.alzheimer.ca/en/bc/We-can-help/Support-groups/Family-caregiver-support-groups  -to learn about and to find support groups

An internet search will turn up many potential help and educational sites.

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Heart Fires

“Keep Her Heart Fire Burning”

Today, I salute all care givers, especially family care givers.

It’s all in the heart.

Little_woman_in_little_wheelchair_--_2015-10-28_0804

Family

 

Billions of unpaid hours are invested by family members in the care of a Loved One suffering from a disease, in our case, Alzheimer’s.

The usual thing is that one person becomes the primary care giver. Most often, a daughter. Most often, it seems, caring for Mom; sometimes for Dad.

Often other family members live in other communities or in other parts of the country, so that it is difficult to commute. Sometimes other members simply can’t face the devastation of Alzheimer’s. They cling to the memories of Mom or Dad, or Loved One, as he or she was. Understandable.

However, distance, or even proximity, should never be an excuse for not sharing. You can send cards and flowers – and not just on special occasions such as birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas. We still have telephones, and there is the ubiquitous internet. If you remember the process, write a letter. It is always special to receive something when you are ailing or in a care home.

Why, there is even a telegram system, whereby you can send a cable to your loved one to encourage them and to touch their hearts. That is happening in our local hospital, and it does help to know that you are being remembered.

Share your news, your good wishes – your love.

So, “ET”, Call Home!!  Your Loved One is where your Heart Home is.

As the song had it in years gone by, when the young men were called to war in defence of our Home Lands, “Keep the Home Fires Burning.”

And keep the heart warm.

In tribute to the family care giver, and in memory of the song, written by Ivor Novello 1914 near the start of the First World War, music by Lena Gilbert Ford, I offer you my take on the old song, a plea from the heart, for your Loved One:

Keep Her Heart Fire Burning

Keep her heart fire burning,
While her heart is yearning,
Turn the darkness inside out
And keep the smile alive.

Keep the dream from dying,
Keep her eyes a shining,
Give her all your courage,
Keep the spark alive.

Mem’ries are so precious,
They may be all that’s left us,
Share with her to give her strength
To stay with us…

And keep the hope a flaring,
Keep the songs we’re sharing,
Keep the spirit of the dove
And we’ll share our love.

Find a silver lining,
Keep the humour thriving,
Tell her life’s old stories,
Keep the hope alive…

So
Keep her heart fires burning,
While her heart is yearning,
Turn the darkness inside out
And keep the love…

Keep yourself well;
She needs you
Share your story.
It really does help.
Remember:
You are not alone.
Her heart is where your home is.

Illustration from:
Absolutely free clipart,
Allfreeclipart.com

— —

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Watch the Care Giver

Watch the Care Giver

To watch the care giver is…
Merely inspiring
As she
Tucks someone into a blanket in her chair,
Fixes her hair
Gives her a hug…
And it tugs on your heart.

Holding Hands 2 re Care Giver -- Capture

To see the helpless sitting there
Wishing to go…somewhere,
Like they used to do,
Feeling lost, feeling alone…
Till along comes a care giver
And she gets a hug,
A kiss on the cheek

A smile…
Well that goes a mile.

Watch as he,
And sometimes it’s a he,
Going about daily duties,
Quiet and efficient,
Comes across a crier.
He stops, stoops over to her level,
And asks, what’s the matter?
And takes the time to chat
To soothe, to comfort,
To wheel her to her desired location…
To assure her that she is home
Or that her “Grand Hotel” stay here
Is giving her family a break
To clean the house,
But they’re never ‘apart’…
It warms the heart.

Watch as he helps a disabled gamer
Trying to flick the Bingo card button
When a number is called;
He guides the lame hand,
They flick the button,
And he says,
“There you are. Only three more numbers to go.”
And the gamer smiles and his eyes glitter,
And the care giver stays by his side…
And you feel a warm glow inside.

Watch the care giver as she
Combs a resident’s hair,
Gentle, with loving care,
As if the woman were her mother;
Perhaps dabs a sad tear from her eye.
Where does such compassion come from?
It will keep you warm from sunset to dawn.
Don’t you feel a tear coming on?

Compassion abounds
Even when tempers flare;
Level heads are always at hand
To quell an outburst;
To soothe a broken heart;
To help one over a feeling of loss;
To guide one feeling lost
And not knowing where to go
Or what to do.
Company is always there
When needed to salve a nerve rubbed bare.

Watch the care giver at work
And see
Compassion at its best,
Calming, soothing, caring…
The adjectives flow freely
As does the tender loving care.
Don’t it make you want to share?

See what care looks like.

I have seen such compassion at work
Every day
For three years now.
It is good to know that compassion does not end at the door when you finally have to drop your loved one at the care home.
Care. Small word. Huge hugs. Big comfort.

© hwbryce

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He Said, She Said – 6

He Said, She Said – 6 –

Doctor, Doctor

He_Said_6_-_Straightjacket_--_2015-10-23_0952

Doctor, Doctor, Meet the Psych Doctor

He said Come on love, it’s just down the hall

She said But this is the hospital
He said Yes but it’s just to meet this doctor
She said I don’t know this doctor
He said, Of course not. Not yet anyway
She said, I don’t need any doctor. I’m fine
He said Yes you are but our doctor said this doctor could help us
She said I don’t want to go
He said Come on, Love, we’ll be late
She said I don’t care
He said Oh come back, Love. Don’t run away. We can’t break an appointment

She relented and they walk the rest of the way down the hallway. She balked.

He said It’s all right, Love. It’s only an interview
She said But I’m not crazy
He said No. No you aren’t. Of course not
She said But the sign said Psychiatric Wing
He said Yes but that’s just where the doctor works. This is her office

She said You’re trying to get rid of me
He said Noooooo. It’s just this doctor can fix your medication. You know, so you won’t go droopy like you did on the last one, or, you know, go wild and scream at me
She said You don’t love me any more

The interview did not go well. She was resistant throughout. The doctor was hard to understand. The medical terminology was scary. She tried to leave several times.

The doctor asked, Is she always like this?
He said Only when she feels threatened
The doctor said I’m not threatening, am I? Here, let me take off my white coat. There. Is that better?
She said No

He said It’s okay, Love, we’re almost finished here, then we can go. Right Doctor?
The doctor said Absolutely

She got up and left

The doctor said, Here, this is the address of our counselor. She’s a bright young lady and I’m sure your wife will feel at ease with her. She’ll call you for an appointment for a more definitive series of tests

He thanked the doctor and left.

She was standing outside, not knowing which hallway to take to get out of there. She was fuming and scowled at him.He_Said_6_-_$$$_--_2015-10-23_0954He_Said_6_-_Angry_woman_portrait_--_2015-10-23_1002The Commons Gallery via Word Clip Art

She said How much did you get for me?

He said, It’s this way, Love. Let’s go home.
— —

But which was the right hallway to follow?
For not once was the word Alzheimer’s uttered.
And where do you go with Alzheimer’s?
You go for a crazy ride.
— — —

Dollar Sign image from Free Stock Photos via Word Clip Art

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Brain Drain part 2

Brain Drain

Part 2

Brain_Drain_2_-_what_to_do_--_2015-10-21_0959Update: Hostile Manager tries to re-calibrate The Brain.

Indeed, The Brain’s instructions were no longer logical. The Body Factory hiccuped. Hostile Manager dived in with mother boards and memory chips and rewiring…until he got the conveyors running again, although hiccupy. He tried desperately to solve this new problem.

Foreman told the workers to work with tender loving care of their beloved factory. Keep the beat, he said, for Body Factory was showing signs of aging. Its frame was leaning, its annexes and storehouses were like rubbery limbs.

“We’re in the middle of it now,” he said.

True enough. The Brain was losing control of the Body Factory parts, and sprang leaks here, dried up there, and behaved like a thoroughly spoiled child. She was just like a living instrument. But failing on more and more fronts. Some parts seemed to tire out and to need rest.

Hostile Manager became desperate. He tried to reboot. He tried repetition to teach The Brain the new tricks he had in store for her to speed up production. But the conveyor belts were showing signs of, what? Rust? Rubber fatigue? They were slack, listless.

No matter. Logic had been stripped. No logic, no production.

“Look out,” yelled Foreman. “She’s going to explode.”

And the whole Body Warehouse belched and wheezed and shot sparks out everywhere.

Indeed, in a desperate attempt to make sense of this not so brave new world she found herself in, The Brain was failing. She squeaked and screamed and cried like a child. She cringed when approached.

“By gar,” said the foremen, “I swear she’s hallucinating. Why else would things be running backwards. Of all the—”

Despite Hostile Manager’s desperate attempts to salvage something, anything of what The Brain was, he reinstalled the original chips and motherboards and all the original wiring.

All to no avail. It was too late for that. Too many algorithms and formulae had simply worn The Brain out. She could not read even her oldest memories now. She could not retain the new ones. All were erased. She was in her final, most severe stage of life. Paralysis was setting in.

The last anyone saw of Hostile Manager, he was running out of the shell of a building cackling some sort of victory mantra.

Brain_Drain_2_-_Hostile_Manager_--_2015-10-21_1001

Foreman analyzed the meaning. “The son of a devil was a saboteur, disguised as a brain doctor.”

Frail now, with no parts communicating with others, the body factory gave a final death rattle as The Brain was drained of all abilities. All systems failed. The warning horn wheezed and coughed, and all went dark in the factory.

Indeed The Brain was drained!Brain_Drain_-_who_needs_it_--_2015-10-21_1003

Women wept and grown men cried. Children looked on, stunned, awe-stricken at these strange goings-on. Some were orphaned, with no place to go but to a broken dad.

And it had all started with a diagnosis for which no one could find a solution.

Alzheimer’s. Who needs it?

All images from Word Clip Art; no other credit requirements found.

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Brain Drain

Brain Drain

Brain_Drain_--_Factory,_Clip_Art_--_2015-10-19_1036

Part One

The old factory was humming along full steam ahead, no problems foreseen. Conveyor belts carried supplies to all parts of the system where they were plucked up and put to good use, lubricating, strengthening, in an agile circuit.

The console that ran the whole system–they called it The Brain. The cogs were interlocking as smooth as number ten oil.

And The Brain was producing cognitive results, even in this space age of zeroes and ones. The Brain was healthy and the Body Factory vigorous. It was a very good factory.

Until the hostile takeover.

This unwelcome new host changed everything. The new manager tinkered with every part of the system. He started with The Brain. He told The Brain it was doing things all wrong. He introduced modifications. He changed the master chip.

But this factory was never set up for such a radical “modernization.” The new memory chip had no immediate memory of the old memory’s immediate memory. Or any memory, in the end, when it came down to it. So things began to go wonky. Delivery parts never reached the dispatch belt. Orders got mixed up because the new memory chip got the names wrong on the labels. It gave wrong orders, or partial orders, as if it could no longer read nouns and verbs. Parts arrived at the wrong destination.

So the hostile takeover manager replaced the chip with a larger capacity chip. But that only made things worse. The system began to sputter. Long-standing orders were now missed, reassigned or forgotten. Conveyor belts began showing symptoms of wear and tear.

Hostile Manager examined The Brain. He installed a programme to plan a new schedule.

But that idea didn’t work out. The programme was a mismatch with the memory chip and The Brain couldn’t figure out how to convey messages for action. The factory stuttered.

And that was only at Stage One of this new adventure in Factory Land.

The Brain failed to learn the new tricks embedded in the new programme. Hostile Manager was shocked when The Brain spat sparks at him. He oiled the wheels. The Brain went all passive. The Foreman said, “I think she’s mad at you.” The Hostile Manager said, “You watch it. I can fire you.”

Brain_Drain_--_Hostile_Manager_--_Clip_Art_--_2015-10-19_1039
But Hostile Manager knew he needed Foreman. It was an internal thing. Anger erupted among the workers; accusations flew around. Red uniforms snarled at white uniforms. No new memory chip installed improved performance. There was clearly a mismatch somewhere, but Hostile Manager had introduced so many changes by now that it was a case of crossed wires. One order collided with another and things fell off the conveyor belts. There were smashed cases of dishes. There were messes to clean up. The Body Factory could no longer contain its oil and there were times when the danger level rose way above acceptance.

“Temperamental beast,” Hostile Manager snapped, and slapped the console.

Foreman reported that he could not keep The Brain on task any more. “It’s like she can’t concentrate, so she gets restless. And, I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t think she can read your new programme. Seems like her brain goes a-wanderin’.”

Hostile Manager berated Foreman. But Foreman was heard to mutter, “He’s speaking the wrong language with her. No wonder she can’t follow orders; she doesn’t know formulae; no wonder she gets things all tangled up.”

Brain_Drain_--_Kicking_the_Console_--_Clip_Art_--_10-19-15

 

 

 

 

All illustrations from Word Clip Art, no other credit discovered

…more on Wednesday

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The Arms Race

Arms vs arms

The Arms Race

Life was tough in No Man’s Land;
Everybody was fighting.
The scene was a battlefield
Of Me Me Me, No Me First!
Always in capital letters.
Race_to_Arms_Crossed_Rifles_--_2015-10-16_1027
“Race to arms! Race to arms!
The threat is imminent
The hordes are coming
Race to arms! Race to arms!”

And among the Mes were a few
Who banded together
And bought arms
With which to fight the other Mes
With force and with might.
To take control of No Man’s Land.

So, of course, other Mes banded together
And they bought arms from
The Peaceful Fifedoms
Who had all the beef and pork
And all the good whiskey
And they, too, set out
To conquer No Man’s Land.

“Race to arms! Race to arms!
The threat is imminent
The hordes are coming
Race to arms! Race to arms!”
Call_to_Arms_Soldiers_--_2015-10-16_1056
The result was, of course,
A lesson in futility
As each fusilade
In this arms race
killed and wounded
The thousands of Mes
And left the Earth scorched
And what life that was left
Was utterly miserable.

Then one wounded Me
Scanned the black, smoking rubble
Of landscape,
And mourned the loss of…
Humanity.
Desolate, this Me
Hung his head in shame.

But across the field of
Wreckage and heaps of bodies,
Another Me looked out
Across the former plain
And saw the shamefaced Me.
They locked eyes…
And something stirred within their souls.
Arms_Race_Peace_Helmet_--_2015-10-16_1108
The two Mes
Plowed their way–
No, they raced
Across the Loss
Into each others Arms
For solace,
And they discovered…
Love.
They set forth to aid
Their fellow sufferers
In a race to hug and heal.

And they roused and rallied
The survivors
In a race to Arms,
The Arms that hug,
The Arms of
Humanity
And peace…
And there was hope
Born that day
In No Man’s Land.

In No Man’s Land,
Where so many live!

So give a hug a day.
Heck, give a thousand hugs
In a Race to Arms,
The Arms
Of Humanity.
Join the the real Arms Race.

Race to Arms! Race to Arms!
Your enemy now needs you,
She needs a hug to heal–
Race to Arms! Race to Arms!
Race_to_Arms_Hug_--_2015-10-16_1025
©H. W. Bryce, Idealist 2015, The Arms Race

***Alzheimer’s is a battlefield. Race to Arms.***

Illustrations from Word Clip Art
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